


Long Live the Revolution

by mercurymoon7490195



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Deaths, Enjolras Survives The Barricade, Gen, Post-Barricade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mercurymoon7490195/pseuds/mercurymoon7490195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras had his revolution, in the end. But at a cost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Live the Revolution

_"Enjolras bore within him the plenitude of the revolution; he was incomplete, however, so far as the absolute can be so; he had too much of Saint-Just about him…." Les Miserables (Volume V, Book I, Chapter V: The Horizon Which One Beholds from the Summit of a Barricade)_

Enjolras stood atop a balcony, looking down at the city below. Paris, his beautiful Paris, was burning. The king was dead, his blood still freshly slicked on the blade of the guillotine. Below him the people rioted, chanting the cry of "Vive La France!", mingling with shouts of his own name. His mouth pressed into a grim line as the voices reached his ears, his knuckles white on the railing.

Combeferre straightened up beside him, refusing to look at the man beside him. "So," he said quietly, his voice catching in his throat. "You did it. Is this what you really wanted, all this time?"

"We did it," Enjolras murmured. "We started this. All of us. And that includes you." He stared out across the city. "This started at our barricade."

"No," Combeferre shook his head. "I never…not this. Not like this."

"Well you should have said something, were that the case."

"I did," Combeferre said. "But you were too blinded by your own rage to listen."

"We tried," Courfeyrac added, leaning against the railing. "All of us tried. Joly, Feuilly, Prouvaire, Bahorel, Bossuet, Marius….Hell, even Grantaire tried to tell you, but you ignored us all." He stared up, hurt, at their leader. "Why didn't you listen, Enjolras?"

He stiffened, his eyes burning. "I did what I had to," he spat. "I had to make them pay."

"And how is this helping?!" Combeferre demanded, gesturing at the square below. "You've killed the king, now what? Where will you lead the people from here? To more bloodshed?! To another Reign of Terror?!"

"If that's what must be done!"

"It's what's going to happen if you can't stop this madness!"

"You cannot stop lava from flowing after an eruption," Enjolras said coldly.

"Enjolras, Listen to me," Combeferre insisted, pushing himself in front of Enjolras' gaze. "This won't help the people; they will only suffer more if you don't do something to stop this before it gets out of hand!"

"And I will," Enjolras snapped, waving him away. "Once someone pays for what they've done."

Combeferre shook his head. "Revenge is no way to run a republic," he said, reaching out to rest a hand on his shoulder, but Enjolras jerked away, closing his eyes.

"Leave me alone," he hissed, hugging his arms around himself and slamming his eyes shut. "It's what I have to do!"

"But why?"

"Why Enjolras?"

"Why would you let it get this far?"

"Why wouldn't you listen?"

"Why couldn't you stop?!"

"WHY?"

"WHY?!"

"BECAUSE SOMEONE HAS TO PAY!" Enjolras screamed, his eyes flying open. "SOMEONE HAS TO PAY FOR WHAT THEY DID TO YOU!"

He slumped, his hands shaking as he hunched over the railing. "They'll pay." he hissed, covering his eyes with trembling fingers. "They'll all pay."

"Citizen Enjolras?" He jumped as a hand rested on his shoulder. A man, one of his fellow revolutionaries, watched him nervously. "They want you to come out and speak, monsieur."

Enjolras nodded, sighing. "Of course, thank you…er…"

The man raised an eyebrow. "Roland, Enjolras..." He glanced out at the crowd. "Are you sure you're alright?"

Enjolras nodded. "Of course, of course." He straightened up, adjusting his cravat and tying his hair back into a severe ponytail. "Come on, we should speak where the people can hear us."

Roland nodded, ushering him into the hallway. "If you don't mind me asking," he said quietly. "Who were you talking to, just now, before I came to get you?"

Enjolras glanced back at the empty balcony. "No one," he murmured, his fists clenched at his sides. "No one at all."


End file.
